“Oh, please.” Freya rolled her eyes as she faced him. “But I’ll have to let him down easy. Even after centuries, some crushes die hard.”

  “Speaking of crushes.” The muscles in Heimdall’s face tightened involuntarily. “When all this is over, someone’s really got to have a talk with your brother.”

  “I know,” Freya replied. “And by your expression, I’d say you think it should be me.”

  Heimdall lifted his eyebrows.

  “Freyr’s not entirely clueless, you know,” she said. “He’s dealt with this kind of thing before.”

  Heimdall sighed. There was always some guileless maiden somewhere falling under Freyr’s enchantment. The nature god swore up and down that he had no control over his own sex appeal, even when things got sticky—like the time the crown princess of the Vralnick dwarves had physically tethered herself to Freyr and pledged to never stray even a hair’s breadth from his side.

  Thor was still grumbling over the resulting battle with the Vralnick army. He’d ruined his best pair of boots in the fighting.

  “But never when the Rune Witch was involved,” Heimdall said. “Was it really such a good idea to put him on the roof with her? We need her focused.”

  “And we need her not worrying,” Freya said. “It’ll be fine. And I’ll make sure he handles it.”

  A succession of loud booms echoed down from the marketplace ceiling—Thor’s signal.

  “They’re here!” Heimdall called out to Thrym and Saga. “You know what to do.”

  18

  Sally’s jaw dropped.

  When she was hiding in the closet, she hadn’t gotten a good look at the Køjer Devils attacking the rental house. But here, on the utility landing mounted high on the side of the IKEA warehouse, Sally peeked over the edge of the roof and saw . . . Dinosaurs.

  Freyr clamped his hand over her mouth before she could exclaim and give away their position. She’d cast a spell of invisibility around herself, Freyr, and Loki, but that didn’t mean the devils couldn’t hear them.

  Sally squirmed out of Freyr’s grasp and turned wide-eyed to Loki. “They’re freaking tyrannosaurs!” she hissed as quietly as she could.

  Loki nodded. “Not quite, but similar. Look again. You’ll see the differences. They are considerably smaller, and have longer and more powerful arms, for instance. No tails.” He shrugged. “But essentially the same idea.”

  Sally peered over the concrete block wall and watched as what she could only think of as tyrannosaurus men poured over the other side of the building and clawed at the roof. There were perhaps three dozen of them, or more—they kept scrambling around so quickly she couldn’t keep count.

  Sally got control of her excited breathing and reminded herself that the devils had some strange aversion to doors and staircases—the utility landing and the fire escape leading down from it were probably the safest places to be.

  Loki watched the devils as they tore up the roofing material. “Just avoid the sigil, if you don’t mind,” he suggested quietly. Bits of PVC, foam, and shreds of ductwork flew through the air as the devils dug into the surface a few meters off center.

  Sally breathed a sigh of relief. “Now, we just wait for them to all pile inside, right?”

  Freyr nodded. “It won’t take long.”

  Sally peeked again over the wall as the last few Køjer Devils disappeared into the hole they’d clawed into the roof. She waited a few beats and scanned the roof. There were no more devils to be seen.

  “That’s it, then?” she asked a bit louder than she’d intended. She ducked back down behind the wall. “I mean, there aren’t any more coming?”

  Loki held up a hand for silence. He stood up tall and surveyed the scarred roof. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, I believe that’s the last of them.”

  Loki climbed up the ladder and pulled himself over the wall and onto the roof. Sally was right behind him, with Freyr bringing up the rear.

  “Your sigil is unharmed.” Loki nodded to the space where Sally had hidden her work. There was an extra sparkle to the reflected sunlight on that particular patch of white roof—the only hint that magick lay there.

  “So far, so good.” Freyr leapt easily from the top of the ladder to the roof. Sally looked over her shoulder and smiled, wishing she could think of something delightful and appropriately witty to say, but Freyr’s expression was grim as he nodded toward the hidden sigil. “Better get to it.”

  Sally approached the center of the roof and paused to look down into the hole the devils had torn. They were long gone and were no doubt harassing Thor and the others by now. She was astonished by how narrow the jagged rift was. The damage to the rental house had been extreme, with large, gaping holes in the ceiling, smashed windows and furniture, and lots of foul-smelling piles left behind. This incursion was neat by comparison.

  “They were bent solely on destruction and harassment before,” Loki said. “They’re after something much bigger now. On a mission, I believe the expression is.”

  Sally pushed aside the many questions that flooded into her mind. If she did her job now—and if she’d gotten the other spells right, too—there would be time for answers later.

  She stepped into the center of her sigil and dispelled its cloak with a wave of her hand. The intricate pattern of blue ink reappeared with a whispered sigh. She looked around the roof to confirm that the bindrune patterns at the four corners hadn’t been disturbed. Then she pulled a slender penknife from her back pocket.

  Sally held up her Uruz-branded thumb and noticed the layers of dirt on her fingers and wrist.

  I really could use a shower, Sally grimaced as she held the blade against her flesh. And some fresh clothes.

  She needed to concentrate if she was going to do what she’d sworn she never would. Sally closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d seen Managarm consecrate his sacrilegious runes from the corpse of the old World Tree, and he’d used her blood to release Fenrir from his prison. She understood the power of magickal blood.

  Sally hadn’t yet asked Frigga about blood magick. She feared it was some dark art that only the most nefarious and the most desperate would resort to. But she was feeling pretty desperate herself right about now, and so far neither Loki nor Freyr had made a move to stop her.

  With a slow exhale, Sally sliced into the fleshy part of her thumb and across the symbol scarred into her skin. The air crackled as her blood rose to the surface. Opening her eyes, Sally pressed her index finger hard at the base of the wound, encouraging the blood to flow. She knelt and pressed her bloody thumb to the exact center of the sigil.

  A shock of energy flew out and up from the symbol as witch blood met magick. The sheer force of it nearly knocked Sally backward out of the symbol, but she gritted her teeth and held her position. She felt the blood sizzling into the bindrune as the crisscrossing lines of blue ink sparked red and orange, and then faded slowly to black.

  Sally lifted her hand and wiped blood and soot on her jeans. She’d probably have to burn these clothes, rather than trying to launder them.

  Freyr stepped close to the perimeter of the bind rune. “All set?”

  Sally nodded and stood up. “No one gets out alive now. I mean, not for them,” she added quickly. “Not through the roof or walls, at least.”

  Loki slid his hands into his pockets. “I feel somewhat conflicted about sealing a bunch of mad lizards inside an IKEA warehouse.”

  Freyr crossed his arms. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

  “We weren’t just in Norway, in the days of the Vikings. We had people in what’s now Sweden, too, and Denmark and elsewhere.” Loki scratched his chin. “It feels almost, shall I say, unpatriotic? To inflict Køjer Devil mayhem on a store which is something of a national ambassador for Sweden? The sides of the building are practically painted with the Swedish flag . . .”

  Loki’s voice trailed off as he stared over Frey’s shoulder. Sally and Freyr turned to follow his gaze. Coming over the wall, far behind its brethren, was a stray Køjer Devil.

  Sally shrieked, and immediately covered her mouth. The Køjer Devil paused, half on the wall and half off, and cocked its head.

  “Umm, hello?” Loki offered with a bemused smile.

  The devil hissed an ear-splitting screech, then clambered back over the wall and down the side of the building, its claws digging into the concrete.

  Freyr sighed. “I’ll go.”

  He strode quickly across the roof toward the fire escape. Sally ran after him.

  “Freyr, wait!” She held up her dark blue marker and uncapped it. “Let me draw the bindrunes—”

  “No time, little witch. There’s a devil on the loose.” He disappeared down the metal stairs.

  Stung, Sally snapped the cap back on the marker and slid it into her pocket. Loki stepped up beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

  Sniffing back embarrassed tears, Sally shrugged away from Loki.

  “Did you hear him? He called me little witch,” she spat. Just like Managarm, she added silently.

  Thor was up to his knees in mattress stuffing.

  The rampaging devils rained down from the roof in a torrent of scales and slashing claws. Thor counted thirty-one of them as they hit the floor of the Bedrooms section and before they scattered in all directions around IKEA’s main showroom.

  “Incoming!” Thor shouted to Thiassen and Valthrudnir as he tried to single-handedly herd the Køjer Devils toward the escalator.

  They sliced through the mattresses and bedside tables like a hot knife through goat butter. Thor cursed sharply as he climbed over shredded upholstery and dodged jagged pieces of pressboard and pine.

  “The wild skogkatts in Frigga’s garden were worse,” Thor grumbled as his boot got caught in a knotted nest of shredded fabric. “They’d just as soon chomp off an appendage as steal your cabbages—”

  A Køjer Devil leapt out at him from behind a teetering wardrobe and slashed savagely at his face. Thor sidestepped the attack in time to escape having his cheek sliced open, but he tripped backward over an upturned sofa bed.

  The devil hissed as it leaned over Thor, lying on his back in a pile of mattress stuffing. Thor scrambled backward, trying to get his feet under him. He remembered the bindrunes the Rune Witch had drawn on his arms with her enchanted ink and said a silent prayer that she knew her magick.

  The creature moved in closer, screeching and flexing its razor-sharp claws in anticipated victory. Thor held his breath.

  “Hey!” Came a booming voice from behind the devil.

  The creature spun on its clawed toes and came face-to-face with Thiassen. The Frost Giant punched the devil in its protruding jaw at the same moment that Thor left his boot print at the base of the devil’s spine.

  The devil screamed its fury and slashed out with its claws before ducking into the pass-through between Bedrooms and Media Storage.

  “Quickly!” Thiassen shouted, holding his arm where the devil’s claws had connected with his flesh. “It is going the wrong direction!”

  Thor leapt to his feet and ran after the escaping devil, who had joined a gaggle of its companions among the carnage of overturned bookcases and DVD wall units.

  “Scatter, you abominable lizards!” Valthrudnir shouted. Swinging a standing coatrack like a sword, he drove another score of the beasts ahead of him from the Home Office department on the opposite side, though Thor noticed the devils scarcely paid the Frost Giant any attention.

  Thor ducked as the two groups of Køjer Devils collided in a cacophony of deafening screeches. Individual limbs lashed out from the dark, scaly mass and sliced indiscriminately through nearby furniture and walls.

  Thor maneuvered carefully around the screaming throng to join Valthrudnir on the far side of the melée. The Frost Giant was hunched over with his hands on his knees.

  “What half-witted lombungr came up with the design of this place?” Valthrudnir panted.

  Thor grabbed the Frost Giant by the shirt and pulled him out of the path of a mostly intact media cabinet that one of the devils hurled at them.

  “Twisting and turning from one room to the next, from so many modest feast tables through a maze of rolling chairs,” Valthrudnir ranted. “This is how these humans live?”

  “I think it has something to do with flow,” Thor attempted in explanation. Then he noticed that the devils had grown considerably quieter—still screeching and clacking their claws together, but at a less-than-earsplitting volume.

  Valthrudnir opened his mouth, no doubt to complain again about the design of the IKEA showroom, but Thor held up a hand to silence him. The Køjer Devils lifted their dark-scaled faces upward, then slowly turned as they scanned the walls and floor.

  “What are they doing?” Valthrudnir whispered. The mass of devils looked right past Valthrudnir and Thor as they continued turning. The devils breathed as one in long, wet hisses.

  “They’ve caught the scent of the oil,” Thor said. At least, he hoped that’s what was happening. It would make their job of herding these lizards down toward Heimdall that much easier.

  A sudden, brain-searing shriek rose up from the devils and nearly knocked Thor off his feet. High-pitched screeches of laughter followed from the glistening red-black scrum before the devils split apart again and tore through the wall separating the bookcases from the Bedroom section.

  “I suppose that’s easier than going single file through the doorway,” Thor grumbled before taking a deep breath and shouting at the top of his lungs. “Go on, you! Get moving, you bastards! Turn left! Left! You stupid lizards! Pretend it’s NASCAR!”

  Once they were clear of the narrow pass-through back to Bedrooms, Valtrudnir started swinging his coatrack again. Despite all their shouting, Thor and Valtrudnir had little effect on the direction or speed of the Køjer Devils. The creatures were following their own instincts for petroleum as they screeched down the frozen escalator to the marketplace.

  “They’re Heimdall’s problem, now.” Thor was about to follow the devils down to the lower level when a surprised shout from Valthrudnir stopped him.

  Thiassen lay on the floor, tangled up in blood-soaked bedding and clouds of shredded pillow stuffing. He lifted his good arm in salute to Valthrudnir and Thor, while his other arm lay motionless and bleeding at his side. Thiassen’s face was a study in quiet agony.

  Valthrudnir knelt beside his kinsman. Without a word, he lifted Thiassen’s wounded arm and tasted one of the slash marks there. Valthrudnir made a pained face and spat black phlegm onto the linoleum floor.

  “Venom. And likely spreading.” Valthrudnir helped Thiassen into a sitting position. “Are you able to travel?”

  Thiassen shook his head at first, but then gritted his teeth. “Yes. I might still be of use in this fight.”

  Thor didn’t like Thiassen’s grayish pallor, and he could see dark lines beginning to branch out beneath his wan face. Thor thought of Heimdall, Freya, and Saga below. Sally had covered them all in protective bindrunes, but he wished he had a way to warn them about the poisoned claws. By this point, the devils were probably already on top of them.

  Thor and Valthrudnir managed to get Thiassen on his feet. He held his injured arm close to his body and pushed away from his friends, headed for the escalator.

  “He’s not giving up,” Thor commented. “I like that.”

  Valthrudnir grunted and followed his kinsman down the frozen stairway.

  Maggie rested in the driver’s seat of the Vanagon. From the parking lot, she’d been trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening inside, to no avail.

  She could, however, hear the muffled shrieks of the Køjer Devils. As each new chorus erupted, she shut her eyes tighter.

  “Camping with Heimdall,” Maggie murmured, trying to immerse herself in memories of happier, saner times.

  Iduna sighed her loud annoyance in the passenger seat. Maggie ignored her.

  Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose against the battle cries from inside the IKEA building—and against Geirrod’s dark grumbling added to Iduna’s irritated sighing.

  She remembered her incessant pleas for Heimdall to drag his sleeping bag inside the tent, and to bring Laika with him, instead of sleeping out in the dirt and pine needles. Even she had been getting tired of the sound of her own voice when she finally acquiesced and pulled her bag out of the tent to sleep under the stars at his side.

  They’d backpacked in late April along the Eagle Creek Trail—Maggie’s first-ever camping trip, though she’d been living in Oregon five years already. Heimdall had made it his personal mission to introduce her to what wilderness still remained, and he was patient with her even as she white-knuckled her way across the High Bridge. Relaxing among the many waterfalls, Maggie had found her laughter again as she watched Heimdall spend a full hour trying to coax Laika out of the Punchbowl Falls swimming hole.

  It was long past sunset when they finally pitched their tent outside the mostly empty Wy’East camping area.

  Maggie smiled as she remembered trying to get the tiny propane stove started in the dark, and how delicious the re-hydrated salmon pesto pasta had tasted after she’d finally gotten the water to boil. All the while Heimdall and Laika had been exploring deeper along the trail, returning only after the stars were bright enough to shine down through the evergreen canopy.

  Maggie took a deep breath and felt the muscles in her shoulders relax. She stretched her toes inside her sneakers and tried not to knock the gearshift with her knee. She settled into the memory of being awakened in the morning by Laika licking her face, and laughing at the pine needles and flakes of bark she found tangled in her hair . . .

  The scream of claws raking through steel exploded over her head. Maggie opened her eyes to the sight of the Vanagon’s roof being torn off in jagged strips from above, and of fluorescent yellow eyes peering down at her through the uneven rents.